Hunger Games: I'm Lovin' It
by Zulera301
Summary: Sometimes a good sponsor can spell the difference between life and death for a tribute. But how heavily would it swing the game to be sponsored by a corporate giant like McDonald's? At least one of the tributes of the 74th Annual Hunger Games is about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** _I've finally managed to fill this void with a new riveting tale, thus bringing me back to my WIP-limit of 5. That said, this, my 13th story is a bit different from the others, as hinted by the genre. While normally I take a serious approach to The Hunger Games due to the intense and psychologically troubling natures of the games and concepts, this work is more just a silly thing I did for a few cheap laughs, because I live for comedy. So, without further ado, I give you what might have happened if McDonald's had sponsored a tribute in the 74th Annual Hunger Games._  
 _Happy Reading!_

 **HUNGER GAMES: I'M LOVIN' IT!**

 **CHAPTER 1**

The 74th Annual Hunger Games was expected to be much like those that came before it in many ways. However, even if the Gamemakers were to create the exact same arena 74 years in a row, there was always a variable that would change from year to year—the tributes. Even with all their technology, they could not bring people back from the dead, and likely had little interest in doing so anyways. Those who won the games were set for life, free from the harsh reality of killing fellow boys and girls whose only real crime was getting their name picked out of a bowl. It was by all means a "sins of the fathers" sort of ordeal, but there was nothing they could do about it now.

And thus, a dozen boys and a dozen girls were on 12 carefully coordinated trains that would take them to the Capitol—and 23 of them to certain doom. Along the way, some tributes talked to their mentors, the victors of previous Hunger Games who sometimes gave them a tip or two. These were the private sessions that other district tributes couldn't see. The public aspects were the recaps of the Reapings, which were all made available immediately after the event itself. That way, tributes could start to size up their competition, and even among the Capitol, rich citizens and gamblers watched the recaps to evaluate who to put their money on. Similarly, rich benefactors watched to see who would be worth sponsoring in the games. Occasionally, various corporations had executives or representatives that did the same thing.

Among these were some of the top level executives of McDonald's, one of the few megacorporations that survived from before the Dark Days. Early on, shortly after the fall of the 1st Rebellion, it came into question how McDonald's had remained after the cataclysms that had left little else in its wake, but thanks to some fantastic PR, the company prevailed.

Board Chairman Balthazar glanced over at his fellow associate Serana, the Senior Marketing Manager as the usual pre-reaping fanfare played on their screens.

"Serana, my old friend," Balthazar sighed as fiery golden Capitol emblems appeared on the screen, "It's been a great many years since we've sponsored a proper tribute in the Hunger Games, and it has been nearly as long since we have offered a decent advertising campaign."

"And?" Serana raised her eyebrow, "if I recall we sponsored a rather popular tribute only two years ago—Lyre Wilde from District 2, if I am not mistaken."  
"Let's try to forget about that year," Balthazar shook his head, "very boring and unremarkable; the last good year where we sponsored a tribute barring the ones that actually won was half a decade ago back in '69. Not to say that our profits have declined, but they have sort of plateaued over the last 5 years, and the board has elected that if you do not help rectify that with proper marketing, we will seek out someone far more competent."

"Those are cutting words," Serana put her hand to her chest, "If you want me to find us a good tribute to sponsor this year, then consider it done. Is that not why we are here now?"

"And right on time too," Belthazar added with something of a sarcastic undertone, considering they had been waiting for the reapings to start for nearly an hour discussing other things, "I was almost worried."  
"There's no need to worry about me, Balthazar," Serana assured him, "I'll cook up an advertising campaign so killer that the Capitol will be eating out of the palms of our hands for decades. Now, let's review the tributes…"

As usual, they started with District 1, watching Marvel Kain and Glimmer Montclair. Balthazar turned to Serana with an eyebrow raised.

"You know what they say about advertisements and pretty women," he quipped, as both of them watched Glimmer's bubbly and excited expression as she waved to the people of her district. It was no mystery that she volunteered, and since the kids from District 1 and District 2 hadn't held an actual lottery-reaping in over half a century, they had no reason to be scared for something they had to fight to sign up for.

"Sure, sex sells." Serana rolled her eyes; "but remember that we're a company that sells Happy Meals—you know, for children. I don't imagine that's the type of image we want to project."

"Of course your mind would go straight to the gutter, Serana," Balthazar rolled his eyes, "but a pretty face and a delicious sandwich was pretty much the modus operandi of Carl's Jr. for centuries."  
"Do you just spend all day looking through old records of our competitors?" Serana narrowed her eyes.

"There's a Wendy's in District 4, in case you forgot," Balthazar retorted. "It's a safety thing."

"Well what about these two?" Serana gestured towards Cato Salazar and Clove Kazera from District 2, who, rather than looking excited and bubbly, looked menacing with their devious grins.

"So now you would condone violence?"

"Isn't that what the whole Hunger Games does?"

Balthazar and Serana argued back and forth for several minutes, either missing or ignoring the next six districts in a row.

"Surely you're not thinking about looking at District 9 or District 10, are you?" the chairman turned to the Senior Marketing Manager as the former of the two showed up on the screen.

"We've already got them wrapped around our little fingers," Serana replied, "and I'll bet you a Big Mac and a Ventnor Avenue Monopoly piece that they won't get past the opening minutes."

"Well, we'd obviously have to discuss some terms then," Balthazar explained, "Not everyone can just wave around a winning piece like you can."

"Consider it luck," Serana shook her head, "and I'm sure you have enough fortune to compensate me should either of them escape the bloodbath…"

"You're on then." Balthazar crossed his arms as Thresh Dakara and Rue Keniye appeared on the screen a few moments later."  
"See, Bally," Serana elbowed her superior in a friendly matter, "if you want to promote violence, you go with the big strong dude who looks like he'd tear your arm off. If you want to appeal to the children's market and sell those Happy Meals like you were so adamant about, you sponsor the youngster."

"or you could always go with the baker," Balthazar pointed out Peeta Mellark from District 12, who, like most from his district, seemed much more subtle and subdued about the reapings, in glaring contrast to District 1 and District 2.

"There will be no need for you to do my job for me," Serana clarified, watching the screen as Peeta's partner Katniss Everdeen glared fiercely at a camera. "We just got a volunteer from District 12 of all places. This year will be full of surprises."

Peeta turned to Katniss as they boarded the train to their inevitable doom. "I know this is not really the place to say it," he pointed out, "But do you have any regrets now that you've volunteered for the games; or are your secrets getting carried to the grave?"

"I stabbed a kid with a screwdriver once," Katniss replied bluntly. "Looking back I regret it."

"At least you regret it now," Peeta reassured her.

"Well, it was a flathead," Katniss pointed out, "made the wound a lot messier. I should have gone with a Philips since a knife wasn't really an option."

"O… kay then." Peeta went silent. Katniss meant business, and their mentor Haymitch approved.

"Was it a thrust or more of an overhead swing?" he turned to Katniss. "Where did you even get a screwdriver, and how did you smuggle it into school?"  
"Hob," Katniss replied, "and I just stowed it in my jacket, since wifebeaters are against dress code." She shrugged her coat off her shoulders to reveal the black top she had underneath it, which was much more form-fitting and very obviously had no way of concealing anything.

"so I basically whipped it out of my coat pocket and thrust it right through his stomach. " Katniss continued, "Right in front of the class too."  
"I remember that," Peeta quipped, "I was a mix between shocked and aroused."

"Hey, you've got more charm than me, Mellark," Katniss retorted, "maybe you can win a sponsor in the 'games that way. Stabbing people with screwdrivers is definitely not good PR."

"And that'll only do him favours on the games, Everdeen." Haymitch riposted. "Sponsors can make or break a tribute, especially if you hit the big time with a corporation or something."

"So if he gets sponsored does that mean I'm chopped liver?" Katniss shrugged her coat back onto her shoulders before pointing at Peeta with a screwdriver—not threateningly, but more just as a gesture of who she was referring to.

"With that attitude, yes." Haymitch nodded before taking a swig from his flask. "I'll get to work on you. In the meantime, have a drink."  
"I wasn't going to ask." Katniss took the offered flask and threw her head back. "But thanks."

She slammed it back on the table with a contented "aaaah!" as she grinned at Haymitch.  
"You've got some good stuff, Abernathy," she turned to him. "Thanks again."  
"Don't expect me to share it all the time," Haymitch replied.

"I won't," Katniss promised, "I'll just take it."

With a contented belch and a brief smacking of her lips, Katniss got up and disappeared back to her compartment. Peeta and Haymitch exchanged glances.

"I like her." They both admitted simultaneously. "She's got style."

Katniss Everdeen was not the only major player in the games this year; as she would soon find out. Peeta refused to count himself out either, but even then, other districts such as 2, 1, and 11, would serve as formidable threats all the same—and all the way in the Capitol, Serana was well-aware of who looked like prime support material; and who did not.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** _Obviously this is going to be a rather silly fic considering that it's about McDonald's of all things, but if that and the genres of the story didn't tip you off, I'm not sure what to say. That aside, we get to take a look at some of the other tributes, and learn what District 11 thinks of horoscopes, as well as Katniss' history with the criminal underworld of District 12. Peeta's onto her and her antics, after all._  
 _Happy Reading!_

 **CHAPTER 2**

The 12 trains that flew toward the Capitol were all full of different pairs of tributes that had different hopes and dreams and fears and everything in between.

While Katniss, Haymitch, and Peeta got along swimmingly on the District 12 train, its counterpart in District 11 was much quieter, with tributes Thresh and Rue both quietly watching television, which consisted primarily of Hunger Games reruns and McDonald's commercials. After about 45 minutes of complete silence from the two of them, Thresh was surprisingly the first to speak up.

"It's like they're trying to mock us," he pointed at the delicious food on the screen.

"How so?" Rue tilted her head innocently. "I mean, besides the obvious notions of showing starving kids mouthwatering food and all that jazz."

"Do you really think they'd allow any of us tributes to actually visit one of these McDonald's stores?" Thresh replied, "they keep us locked up in that tower like prisoners."  
"Or like princesses from those fairy tales," Rue replied as she took a shot of a red liquid that turned out to just be cranberry juice, "but really when you think about it, there's gotta be a way out."  
"If there was, I feel like we'd hear a lot more about tributes escaping," Thresh pointed out.

"There's gotta be a food court or something though," Rue suggested, "I'll have to do some poking around once I get there."

"Just don't go looking for trouble," their mentor, a man named Varric Svenja warned.

"That's exactly what I plan to do," Rue teased, "within reason of course."

"I'm ashamed, Varric," Thresh pointed out, "I thought you knew your district better."

"He's right you know," Rue chipped in. "surely they wouldn't advertise McDonald's restaurants to us tributes if there was no way for us to sample the delicious food ourselves."  
"Now listen," Varric laughed, "you didn't even let me finish. I have full confidence in both of you, and I'm sure you knew that as well as I do. Now tell me: we saw the commercial, but we also saw the reapings: are you at least aware of who might pose a threat?"

"1 and 2, of course," Thresh nodded, "maybe that kid from '12. He's got a solid-built look to him."  
"The girl too," Rue added, pouring herself more of that cranberry juice. "I don't know how anyone else missed that she had a screwdriver in her coat pocket. That's some serious style there."

"Concealed weapons are invaluable during the games," Varric agreed, "For some, at least. Rue would do well to give that a try. I don't take you much for the type though, Thresh."  
"I'll do what I have to, but otherwise, you're right," Thresh took a drink, "I'm a big man, and a big man needs a big club or something."

"Sound logic," Varric chuckled, "but the first step in the games is to present yourselves to the Capitol and pray that they like you enough to sponsor you—I'm fairly certain you guys remember Theodore Cruz, from District 9 a few years ago?"  
"Wasn't he the one that got sponsored by that Zodiac Corporation?" Rue piped up.

"And went on to murder half a dozen tributes in half as many days?" Varric nodded, "That's the one. They called him The Zodiac Killer for a while because of it too. Then that girl Merida from District 1 took him right out—but which do people remember more: Merida, or the Zodiac Killer?"

"What does Zodiac even do?" Rue tilted her head.

"They make up random stories to sell to gullible Capitol folks that think the stars can dictate their personalities or futures," Thresh laughed, "I read an article about them in that magazine a few hours ago." Reading material was scarce as well, and of course all of it was filled with Capitol propaganda or advertising. Rue took the magazine and thumbed through it as the train whizzed onward.

"Look at this," Rue narrowed her eyes, "' _everywhere you go, you're just an overemotional basket-case. Consider shaving your head and painting your face and toenails green for the next week…'_ what the hell is a Pisces anyways?"

"Some aspects of Capitol Culture are clearly not meant for us mere mortals to understand," Thresh sighed. "That's a good one though. Read the one after it."  
Rue's eyes silently scanned the article, before she suddenly burst into hysterics. "Crap, I lost my page!" she exclaimed as the magazine hit the floor, "Man, oh, man, that one was gold! I dunno what a Capricorn is, but I wanna find out. Think we could land a sponsorship with Zodiac?"  
"I don't think you two are full of enough shit to land a sponsorship with them," Varric pointed out. "Had they been around in my mother's day, they definitely would have loved her though."  
"Hey now, have some respect for your mother." Thresh hit Varric's arm, "I know her too; nice lady."  
"She's hilarious too," Rue chipped in, "Kind of crazy to think it's already been 30 years since her games."

"So now what?" Thresh changed the subject, "we just going to watch commercials from the Capitol the rest of the way there, or did you have undisclosed advice to share?"  
"Nah, the commercials sound about right," Varric shrugged, "it can't be any worse than whatever District 12's doing…"

It wasn't like Varric actually knew, but over in the District 12 train, Katniss had somehow gotten bold enough to challenge Haymitch to a drinking game. Even Peeta and Effie got in on it—they both knew Haymitch would drink Katniss under the table, but Peeta had enough confidence in the girl with the screwdriver to assert that she would down at least four beers, while Effie only thought she would be able to down about two.

"I'm no expert," the pink-haired escort retorted, "But there's no way she can weigh more than 100 pounds or so."  
"122, woman," Katniss lifted her shirt to just below breast-level and deliberately accentuated her stomach by leaning forward and giving herself the impression of having substantial body fat (which she did not have, in reality), "contrary to popular belief we're not all malnourished bastards; just 89% of us."

"Those are some dangerously precise numbers." Peeta pointed out.

"You learn things every now and again back home, Mellark." Katniss explained as she popped open a beer, "Surely you of all people would know that."  
"Live it up, Everdeen." Haymitch raised his bottle and drank, prompting Katniss to do the same.

"Goodness, Katniss," Effie explained after Katniss (and Haymitch) had cleared their 3rd bottles, "where did you ever develop such a tolerance for this stuff? Barring the fact that it's little more than glorified piss-water, it's not even suitable for children your age."  
"Live it up, Trinket," Katniss riposted. "Real answer though—you learn stuff from the mob."  
"District 12 has a mob?" Peeta seemed unaware of this information himself.

"Of course," Katniss nodded, "The mob secretly runs the Hob—the Godfather's name is Bob, and it's the Capitol that they like to rob—or anyone who's a lazy slob."

"Do they stuff their gob with corn on the cob?" Peeta raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, as a matter of fact they do!" Katniss' eyes lit up as she took another shot, "well, except Rob, who's really kind of a snob. I once managed to lob a glob at Rob; made him sob. Poor bastard hasn't been the same since then; he's been out of a job."

"That'd really make my neck vein throb," Peeta shook his head.

"Damn you're good though!" Katniss slammed her bottle on the table. "Someone get this man a beer!"

"I work in a bakery, Everdeen," Peeta took one of Katniss' beer bottles, "we've got a basement brewery for those really special times."  
"Such as when the mob comes to visit?" Katniss raised an eyebrow.

"I know you're with them," Peeta replied. "But yes—for when the mob comes to visit."

What they didn't know was that there were hidden cameras in the trains, and that plenty of Capitolites, ranging from rich citizens to corporate overlords, were able to witness almost anything that went down.

"You've got your eyes on that kid from '12, don't you?" Balthazar tapped Serana on the shoulder.

"How can you not," Serana riposted, "she has mad skill—and apparently is part of the mob."

"It's no wonder President Snow generally ignores District 12," Balthazar commented as they watched the drinking game. Katniss managed to go through about 7 beers before passing out and having to get carried to her room by Peeta.

"But they show talent," Serana pointed out, "so do the kids from '11."  
"So you're disregarding '1 and '2 entirely then?" Balthazar frowned.

"We haven 't even seen the parades yet, you boob." Serana narrowed her eyes, "Wait until the games start—I'll have your results by then. I didn't get voted in as Senior Marketing Manager just for my good looks, you know."

"For your sake, you better be right," Balthazar warned.

Serana shook her head and continued watching. The Board Chairman was a right pain in the rear sometimes, but he was insightful every now and again. Perhaps it was time to see what District 1 and District 2 were up to after all.


End file.
